Rain
by celestialscribe
Summary: This is set just after James discovers that Sirius and Remus have surpassed friendship. He says a few words of warning to Sirius, fearing for the friendship of his two friends, however Sirius being who he is they don't sit well with him.


To Sirius Black, hatred was a common acquaintance. In his short lifetime, he had already come to despise his family almost as much as they despised _him_. He hated his mother in particular however Regulus was no exception, especially once he'd started coating his walls with newspaper cuttings of the so called Death Eaters and their murderous affairs. At Hogwarts, there was no student he loathed more than Severus Snape. He hated him for being such a slimy git, also for being so undeniably obsessed with the dark arts, but most of all it was because he _knew_. He knew about Remus, he knew that he was a werewolf, and _Merlin__,_ did he like to remind them. Not only that, but Sirius had no one but himself to blame. It was _him_ who had thought it a good idea to play such a stupid prank on the Slytherin, endangering the wellbeing of the werewolf he had sworn to protect.

Sirius never confessed his feeling of self-blame. The other three Marauders, including Remus, mistook his facade of indifference as mere stubbornness and a refusal to admit that he was wrong, brushing off the whole prank with a simple comment that Snivellus deserved everything he got. That last part, at least, he could say with conviction. However Siriuswas not a fool, nor was he blind to the truth; he _knew_ he was wrong. He didn't deny his guilt per say, he simply didn't _admit _to it; admitting it would require him to recognise that he was just a Black like any other. The same poison ran through his veins, marking him as a lesser man. He was venomous, spiteful, and Snape merely served to remind him of that, of everything he hated about _himself_. That single prank was one of many regrets that Sirius pointedly chose not to remember. For never until that day had Sirius understood what it was to _really_ fuck up.

Sirius Black was full of hate. But not _once _had he ever hated James Potter. His friend had pissed him off on many an occasion, but never had Sirius' loyalty wavered. And yet in that moment, as James grasped the neck of his robes in one fist, face pressed up against his in confrontation, Sirius_ loathed _him. For the first time. Thankfully it was also the last.

Sirius wasn't proud of it. In fact, he hated himself even more than he already did for simply _thinking _it. He hadn't given much thought as to what he'd expected from his friend when he eventually found out, he who had come to be the closest thing to family Sirius _had_, even before his bitch of a mother had kicked him out.

But it hadn't been _this_.

James' grip tightened as he brought those grey orbs to meet his own framed gaze. His brow was twisted in an ugly frown. Meanwhile, his teeth were clenched as if eating his words, clearly having a great deal to say on the matter yet having the sense to keep it to himself. A deathly silence hung over them, only interrupted by the furious drum of raindrops on the roof. The sound occupied the entire changing room, but neither Marauder seemed to heed it any attention.

_It bothers you_. Sirius could see it in his face; James didn't like it. None of it. Sirius fought to keep an identical expression, one that warned James not to push the matter if that's what he thought of it, if that was what he thought of _him_. Sirius could feel his fingers threatening to tremble with a crushing anger and disappointment, thus he clenched his hands into fists. He could have fought back, but even Sirius Black grew tired of fighting after year upon year of it. Besides, he'd only seen James in this particular state on a couple of occasions, each as rare as the next. Usually Sirius deserved it. Usually he'd fucked up _big_ time, earning whatever harsh words James had to offer. And without fail, Sirius _never_ admitted it. It was his biggest fault. He was stubborn, more stubborn than Remus when he wanted to be. _Better to be your own man_, Sirius told himself. It was easier, _safer _that way. It was this thought that provided the encouragement Sirius needed to look James in the eye, daring him to say the words. For Sirius did _not_ regard this as one of those times.

_Say it. Say what you're thinking. That I'm not good enough for Moony, that I'll only fuck him up like I fuck _everything_ up._

Had James said these words, Sirius would have believed them without a sliver of doubt. The judgement of James Potter had always been superior to his own. Regardless of that, James would only have voiced what he had come up with countless times himself. For the first sixteen years of his life, Sirius had done nothing but disappoint. There wasn't a witch or wizard alive who had less belief in Sirius Black than the boy himself. Perhaps James recognised what he had inadvertently resurfaced; Sirius' fear of failing the very people he strove to impress, his fear of rejection, his fear of losing those he had come to depend on in the absence of an actual family, each in tension with a belief that he was _right _and a desire to simply give up and pretend not to give a flying fuck. For he finally released him from his grip, giving him one last shove towards the wall before parting from the situation entirely and letting the door to the changing rooms slam shut behind him.

Sirius had lost his footing, his back hitting the wall behind him, _hard_. Reaching over his shoulder to rub the wound it had left him, Sirius scowled after his friend. He considered kicking the nearest bench, but he'd learnt his lesson years ago; this action only led to a broken toe and a humiliating trip to the hospital wing. But Sirius was shaking, his face was hot with rage and tears stung his eyes for the first time since he'd turned up on James' doorstep during the summer after their fifth year. Regret swept over him as he was reminded of that particularly painful night; there had been a time when he believed James would have accepted him no matter what, no matter how stupid or reckless he was. But that didn't seem to apply to _this_. This was a different matter entirely. Bitterness swelled within him, provoking him into an ugly stream of curses until his frustration was beyond containing. Sirius barged through the door and out onto the grounds on his way to the castle.

"Bloodymerlinfuck!" he cried into the night. "Fuck you, Prongs!"

Sirius almost wished James was still there to hear him. Though knowing James, the effects would be lost on him. Knowing _himself_, he most likely wouldn't be able to pass off another opportunity to hit the boy.

"Sirius?"

At the sound of that voice, Sirius broke. At the sound of that voice, the one voice capable of conjuring images of serenity and a comfort that was otherwise beyond Sirius' reach, his footsteps faltered and his eyes fluttered shut. Sirius seemed temporarily oblivious to the rain that cascaded from the skies above, just as he'd been oblivious to the heavy drops that had resounded off the roof, echoing through the almost empty changing room. Remus had been leaning against the outer wall of the changing rooms, seeking cover from the cold and the wet that he had always professed to loathe so much. It didn't surprise Sirius that neither he nor James had noticed Remus there. During their exchange of bitter words of warning, the grounds had grown dark, whilst the onslaught of that exchange had left their senses confused. Remus stepped out from under his cover and into the rain, filling the space before Sirius as he cupped his face in his palms.

"Every word?" Sirius asked, opening his eyes so as to meet the warm orbs of the werewolf, his _boyfriend_ for want of a better word. "I mean-"

"Every word," Remus replied.

Another stab of frustration struck Sirius in the pit of his stomach as it occurred to him just how unbothered Remus seemed by it all. His expression was calm in stark contrast to Sirius' own, only a hint of concern in the depths of his amber eyes which had nothing to do with what James had actually said. Had Remus not pressed his lips to his, Sirius was sure he would have offered some cruel retort, a means of defence so commonly employed yet not without regret. Either that or he would have merely caved in upon himself until he was nothing but a sorry, crumpled mass in the mud. James' words, coupled with those he _hadn't _voiced, left him sickened to the very core. James knew him better than anyone, and he seemed to think this would only serve to cost them the very friendship they depended on. But that was an outcome that Sirius could not withstand. He'd do anything if it meant preserving what he and Moony had so recklessly, _gloriously_ stumbled into.

_You'll be the death of me, Remus Lupin,_ Sirius thought bitterly. But he placed his hands over Remus', kissing him with a tenderness that _should_ have been beyond him. Raindrops continued to beat down upon them. They seeped into their robes, most likely chilling them to the bone, but Sirius had little care for rain. _What was rain_, he thought, enjoying the warmth that Remus provided even in the cold of their surroundings, _when there was so much worse to come?_ Rain was the least of their worries, as James had so helpfully demonstrated.

Sirius parted, resting his forehead against Remus', clinging to the closeness the other boy offered.

"Prongs-"

"-is wrong," Remus supplied, cutting Sirius off before he could say words that should never have been said in the first place. "Sirius, I know what you're thinking. But if you're so much of a fuck-up, then what in Merlin's name am I doing kissing you?"

Remus looked into the stormy depths of Sirius' eyes, certain that he was seeing a side of Sirius that few ever chose to see. Even James; the problem with having a secret language throughout your adolescence, thoughts spoken in a few short words or a simple look, was that it didn't accommodate for the complexities of life once you grew up. _This_ most certainly couldn't be explained or even understood, least of all in words. No words could even _begin _to describe _this_.

With tender fingers, Remus brushed away the dripping locks of Sirius' hair, smiling to himself as he made a silent vow to show this boy just how much _he_, Remus Lupin, believed in Sirius Black. Even if the boy opposite him couldn't.

"And in the rain of all places.. I must _really_love you."

At the mention of the rain, it seemed to dawn on Remus just how soaked they had become. Or perhaps he merely endeavoured to distract Sirius from the truth he had so casually revealed. The werewolf moved his hands to Sirius' hips, bringing him into a closer embrace. Had Remus not known Sirius quite as well as he did, had he not recognised the fear that was etched so deeply and so utterly exposed upon his features, he might not have been quite as compelled to stand in the rain like any other fool in love. But as it was, Remus knew Sirius far better than any. He could sense that Sirius was reluctant, evident in the way the corner of his lips twisted into a frown, in the way Remus had to _work_ for that obnoxious grin that he'd so often taken for granted.

"You're not half as smart as everyone thinks you are, Moony," Sirius said finally, a shaky laugh escaping him. As soon as lips first touched lips, Sirius' anger had subsided and his expression had softened, but there was a lingering reservation that hadn't been there before. He was scared. Bloody terrified, in fact.

Remus must have sensed this for he shifted his arms so that they encased Sirius, hands clasped together against the small of his back. The werewolf may not always have been particularly fond of the rain, he didn't believe it could wash away their fears entirely, but at this precise moment it was almost a comfort. The rain was a force in itself and yet to a witch or wizard it could be tempered with a charm or extinguished completely. But it wasn't supposed to be; it was crucial to the world's mechanics. James would come round. At least, he'd see that Remus stood just as much chance of messing this up as Sirius did. As far as Remus was concerned, he had nothing to lose, thus he'd be damned if he let anyone intervene in what he had already come to cherish. Sirius. Kissing Sirius. Kissing Sirius in the rain if he must.

Sirius let his eyes fall shut against the world once more. His first instinct was to free himself of the werewolf who had showed him more kindness than he'd ever receive himself. Remus was being naive; James was right. Yet there was nothing Sirius wanted more than to preserve this moment, so fleeting as it was, as every moment like it had been. Remus couldn't have known the extent to which James' words rung true in his mind. He couldn't have known just how much he'd hate himself were he to fuck this one up, how much he _already_ hated himself for causing Prongs to doubt him in the first place. Neither could Remus have recognised that it was only in his presence that Sirius ever felt like the wizard he'd always wanted to be.

"Moony," Sirius began, opening his eyes and blinking away the rain so as to return his gaze to Remus'. Sirius' lips parted as if he were toying with the words, and Remus was almost certain that the ones that eventually left his lips were not the ones intended.

"You know a good drying spell, right? Because I reckon we're going to need one."

And there it was. The very thing Remus had been searching for, the very thing that indicated that no matter what the set-back, they would forever return to _this_. Padfoot and Moony. An affection of a nature that neither wizard could have predicted. That obnoxious grin, the one that Remus had fought _not_ to be so fond of, was splayed across Sirius' lips more beautifully than ever. Normally it was a guard that prevented anyone from seeing too deeply into the boy, but it had ceased to work on Remus long ago.

No answer necessary, but also in the knowledge that neither he nor Sirius could have gotten any more soaked than they already were, Remus caught the other boy's lips with his own, painfully tender and yet worth every second of it. Sirius rested a hand on the nape of Remus' neck, fingers tracing the cold skin before entangling themselves in the wet tresses of his hair. A feeling of vulnerability replaced regret, made bearable only by the elevation that accompanied it. With that one embrace, Remus undid more than just the words of James Potter. Remus undid years of insecurity that most didn't even know this particular Black possessed.


End file.
